


Tales Of Immortality

by Amsare



Category: Jane Eyre (2011), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Crossover Pairings, F/M, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Regency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsare/pseuds/Amsare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Charles Xavier hasn't got tired of immortality yet.</i><br/> <br/><i>(…)</i><br/> <br/><i>It's thrilling, he means it, being undead but at the same time being very much alive - it's something everyone should try, really. Probably it wouldn't be as exciting as it is for Charles: he's a telepath which means he can read minds, feeling his preys' emotions or even control them. It's a kind of power he's always had since he was a baby.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charles

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve wanted to write this AU for ages! It was 3000 words long but then I came up with so many ideas that I had to divide it into smaller parts. As always, English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy your reading!

Charles Xavier hasn't got tired of immortality yet.

 

He's sitting on a roof of a house in London, his bloodthirst satisfied for that night. He's got dried blood on his shirt but he doesn't care at all – he's going to burn it before coming back to his hotel room.

 

Charles is used to this routine: half asleep during most part of the day, getting up around six in the evening, going out with his sister Raven to hunt. Repeat.

 

It's thrilling, he means it, being undead but at the same time being very much alive – it's something everyone should try, really. Probably it wouldn't be as exciting as it is for Charles: he's a telepath which means he can read minds, feeling his preys' emotions or even control them. It's a kind of power he's always had since he was a baby.

 

By the way today is a special day because if he doesn't get wrong, he's turning two hundred sixty six years old.

 

_Happy birthday to me._

 

It's surreal thinking about the fact that he only spent twenty four years as an ordinary human being before he had been turned into a vampire.

 

He had been very stupid, very stupid indeed; actually it wasn't a surprise when he woke up in an unknown room, tied up to a wooden bed, skin burning and turning paler. His mind was dizzy, head spinning around – it was like he had a terrible fever. Worst of all, he couldn't feel anybody with his power, it was like he was shut down once for all.

 

Charles had been an important young man during the 18th century: he went to many fancy meetings, flirting with both men and women when he got caught by one of them – he became _prey_ instead of being the _hunter_.

 

He remembers that man, _his maker_ : he seemed to be a fallen angel with his dark blue eyes and low voice. Charles had been so hypnotized by him that he forgot whatever he was saying to one of his guests.

_"Charles Xavier is a pleasure meeting you."_

 

That voice was like melted lust, flowing thought his ears, freezing his power: he was stuck where he was, unable to hear his thoughts – and he didn't mind it at all.

 

_"Please to meet you, sir. With whom have I the pleasure to speak with?"_

_"I'm Sir Seth Blackwell.”_

Seth. His maker.

 

Charles sighs in the cold night – even if he can't really feel it on his skin – remembering the words that man whispered in his ear the morning after.

 

_"You will be a perfect vampire, I knew it the moment I set my gaze on you, with those eyes and mouth of yours. Not to mention the power I could feel – you're special, aren't you? You are not an ordinary boy."_

He licks his lips thoughtfully, looking over the city of London and wondering where he is now, _his maker;_ he didn't tell him where he was from, turning him into a creature of the night without really caring about him. As Charles would have understood many years later, Seth had been one of those solitary vampires who liked to create as many vampires as he could just to have some sort of power as a pagan god.

 

_"Open your mouth."_

_"What-?"_

_"I said, open your mouth. Don't make me force you."_

Charles had obeyed – tied up to the bed as he was, he couldn't have done anything different – and Seth had made him drink dark blood gushing from his wounded wrist which he had cut himself.

 

He thought it would have been revolting but it wasn't – actually he had felt stronger and he wished he could have had it more.

 

_"Good boy. Are you feeling better, aren't you?"_

 

Charles shivers at the memory of what had happened after that: he had never felt so excited in all his life, wanting his maker to hold him, kiss him, have him.

 

It was heaven and hell together.

 

And then it was no more.

 

Seth stayed with him for a few days in order to stabilize him, keeping him locked up in that dark room: he told him everything he should have known about his new life and after that he left Charles all by himself, scared and confused in that abandoned house in the country.

 

He had so many questions in his head and nobody to talk to.

 

With an excuse, he explained to his mother why he had been far from home and then he tried to keep on living normally. Charles had tried to not be a monster, feeding himself with a piece of meat instead of blood – oh, if he tried! – but the urge to _drink_ , to bit and suck that hot red fluid was unbearable.

 

He remembers how during a dinner he could feel his mother blood running through her veins and how he had started to think about slicing her throat; he could hear her heart beating, wishing to hold it in one hand and taste it.

 

_"Are you feeling unwell, son?"_

 

That was enough to make him attack: her puzzled eyes looking at him, a glass of wine in a hand. That woman had always been so frail, it was easy to break his neck and her soft skin with a single hand. He heard his mother's cry of help echoing in his mind but he didn't stop himself – he kept licking and tasting her blood and it was good.

 

 _Very_ good.

 

She was dead after a few seconds: her heart had stopped beating, her eyes were dead and empty.

 

But Charles was not alone in that room – there was someone else still breathing.

 

Raven.

 

His lovely sister had watched all that terrible scene without making a single noise: she was petrified on her chair, in her fancy blue dress, looking at her brother with wide terrified eyes.

 

_What are you, what have you done, Charles, our mother..._

_Please don't be scared, please don't look at me like this._

_What have you done, what have you done?_

She was in shock – her thoughts messy and confused – but Charles couldn't do anything for her in that moment. He had grabbed her arm, looking at his mother dead body on the floor – her blood was everywhere even on the furniture behind – walking out the room.

 

As soon as they were out, a young servant looked at him as if he was the devil himself: she had screamed, running away from him, crying for help. He hadn't blamed her – he was covered in blood, his dark jacket stained in a macabre way – he looked like a murderer.

 

He hated Seth with his heart for what he had done to him: he had become an animal led by his own instincts.

 

What happened after was hard: Raven was still in shock, her mind wrapped around itself as to protect herself from hurting. Charles had talked to her through his thoughts, explaining himself, trying to make her feel better. They had hidden in a stable that seemed to be empty and Charles had made her sit on a pile of straw. After hours and hours of tries, Raven began to be herself again but she was shivering and she still couldn’t speak.

 

Charles had never been happier to be a telepath.

 

_Whatever happened I wish I could have helped you somehow._

_You couldn't have. That man wanted me and you couldn't have stopped him_ , he had thought, staying away from her – he was still covered in their mother’s dried blood after all, the metallic taste still strong in his mouth.

_Then let me help you now._

 

Raven wanted to become a vampire just like him; with their mother dead the only option left for her was marrying a man abandoning his own brother and she couldn't do it.

 

She didn't want to spend the rest of her life away from him, pretending to have witnessed her mother's murder telling everyone that Charles had simply gone insane.

 

It's funny thinking about how they didn't grief Mrs Xavier as they should have but she had never been a typical maternal figure – they despised her. Her ghastly death wasn't so terrible anymore.

 

_I don't want to leave you. Let me choose for myself._

Charles transformed his sister, repeating part of what Seth had done to him staining her dress, making a mess – Seth would have been more attentive.

 

_Welcome back._

_Hi, Charles._

 

As soon as she opened her eyes, now dark and hungry, he had kissed her on the front.

 

_Thank you, Raven. I mean it._

 

 

"Charles? Are you still up there?"

 

Suddenly he comes back to reality – someone is calling him. Charles looks down from the rof, smiling at his sister. "Where else should I be?"

 

"Have you already eaten? Because I'm a little hungry." She says aloud, her voice echoing in the empty street – he can sense the excitement for the upcoming hunt in her words.

Charles jumps off the building easily, landing perfectly on his feet, a smirk on his face.

 

"What do you think?" He points at his shirt stained of dried blood. “But I don’t mind another round with you – I have to change my shirt though.”

 

“You should have waited for me! It’s your birthday, you cannot stay all by yourself.” She shakes her head in disapproval but then her smile widens as he takes her hand in his.

 

“I’m not alone now.” He says softly, looking at her with adoring eyes “Shall we go?”           

 

As they walk through the streets of this new London – so much different from the city they used to know during the 19th century – Charles thinks that Raven is his blessing because he couldn’t have survived all those years without her.

 

She is one of the two vampires he has turned and she’s still here with him, the woman of his life, his loyal sister; as for the other vampire, well, Sir Edward Rochester is not there.

 

And this is something which nearly made Charles go insane.


	2. Edward

"I said you have to be careful."

 

Charles rolls his eyes hearing this for the millionth time – he was more than two hundred years by now, he was no child who needed a constant reminder of what to do or not to do.

 

He isn’t annoyed though – it amuses him, really, because his sister is adorable when she’s worried for him and she loves her for it.

 

He sighs.

 

"Raven, how many times should I tell you that I'm going to be okay? It won't be the first time we split up anyway."

 

His sister looks at him pursing her lips, not convicted at all; she straightens her back against the chair, folding her arms together.

 

They look at each other intensely when finally the girl sighs hopeless, defeated.

 

" _Fine_ , but please Charles, _please_ , don't be reckless. You know better than me what can happen." Raven doesn't add anything else, but Charles knew what she’s meaning even without using his telepathy: 1873, London.

 

Both of them had left their homeland so long before, both of them had become those _creatures_ and they needed to move on in order to do not draw the community attention. Charles was so scared at the beginning, the thought of feeding on blood as a demonic creature was unbearable and nauseous; in the end he got used to it as it was the only way to survive.

 

In 1873, Charles and Raven went to a fancy party – it was easy to infiltrate at those parties by then, thanks to Charles' celestial blue eyes and his red lips that made him look like an angel; Raven was a beauty too – blonde and pale like a china doll – oh, _and of course_ , how to forget Charles' telepathy! Since he could recall he could hear people thoughts and make someone forget whatever he wanted.

 

It was a piece of cake.

 

That summer night both brother and sister were in London for fun, but also because they needed to eat – Charles was so hungry that he could feel blood racing through people veins just standing beside them.

 

He was one hundred and fifty years by then and everything was right.

 

He remembers how Raven had left him alone just for a minute when he could feel somebody watching him, having _interesting_ thoughts about him.

 

_Who is this boy? I have never met him in my life, I certainly have remembered such a peculiar face._

Charles had smiled by himself, turning his head toward the man who had been looking at him interested, foretasting his blood when he froze on the spot.

 

That man was stunning: tall and slim, bright eyes staring at him and to no one else.

 

That man – who Charles would have later known as Sir Edward Rochester – had seemed to be the perfect victim for that night; his scent had been inebriating and it had made Charles' head spin.

 

If only he could have been able to kill him once for all, drinking his blood, forgetting about that piercing grey eyes!

 

He simply could not.

 

They had made _love_ – it was completely different from other times Charles had shared a bed with men or women just for blood lust; there had been something in Mr Rochester that had made him weak, uncertain on what to do.

 

He didn't dare to drink a single drop of his blood, waiting for the next day to feed himself with someone else – in his mind there was only Edward Rochester.

 

He understood clearly: Charles had fallen in love with a mere human and the idea of killing him just to drink his blood _hurt_.

 

It hurt too much.

 

He couldn't believe it was possible to love someone like that: when Seth had turned him into a vampire a century before, they hadn’t love each other. That was pure lust, _desire_ , nothing less, nothing more.

 

Mr Rochester had started to send him tons of letters full of elegant and sublime words while Raven had been trying to make Charles think about their relationship. He still remembers the fight he had, shouting her she knew nothing about that man who loved him more than his own life.

 

_"You know it's wrong! It's not natural, we'll be exposed and then executed. Is this what you want?"_

_"No, I don't! I would never do anything to hurt you, you're my sister."_

_"What are you going to do then?"_

Charles knew exactly what to do: he decided to turn him himself, one night after they had made love. He would have been the first man turned into a vampire by him – except Raven obviously.

 

Mr Rochester was asleep when Charles finally bit into his tender flesh, right on his neck; hot blood started to gush, staining the white cushions and sheet. His lover tried to scream, his mind confused and scared, struggling to survive in vain.

 

 _Don't be afraid_ , he had thought Charles, projecting calmness and affection. _Everything will be fine, we'll be together, my love._

 

He had kept sucking his blood until the man passed out, his body now too weak to fight. Charles was lost in his scent and taste, licking the wounded red flesh with religious devotion and thinking _I love you, I love you,_ as a plea.

Then as it started, it was over.

 

Mr Rochester's heart had stopped beating while Charles' own had been beating faster than usual since the beginning of the transformation – as a vampire, your blood pressure is lower than a human's one but it increases as you're feeding.

Simple biology, really.

 

He looked at the man's naked limp body while trembling for anticipation, waiting for those eyes to open; he caressed one chick with love, murmuring soothing words.

 

 _Welcome back, my love,_ Charles had thought as soon as his lover came back to life; his grey eyes were no more, now dark and nearly black, thirsty for blood.

 

He knew what he had to do, just like when he had woken up as a vampire so many years before, biting hard his own left wrist to make it bleed copiously.

 

"Drink." Charles had commanded softly, bringing his wrist to Rochester's mouth; the man closed his lips on the wound, starting to suck life-blood by instinct, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in his mind.

 

_What happened, tell me Charles, what happened?_

_I'm your creator. I love you._

Charles sighs at the painful memories – it's been more than a hundred years and he should be over them by now – and yet he can't pretend nothing had happened.

Edward Rochester was gone now – one day he was with him, the next one he wasn't.

He abandoned him after only a year since he had been turned into a vampire; he just left, no notes, no letters, maybe for the best. Actually his lover had never been the same after the transformation – something had changed in his mind, making him doubtful and regretful.

 

Edward wasn’t grateful of his immortality, never thought about it as a gift; the inexorable passing of time made him anxious, it drove him mad.

 

Charles was never the same by then: if he was thirsty, he didn't linger on his victim mind for too long, staying detached. He could have fun even like that, no feelings involved.

 

Raven didn't say anything after Rochester departure, staying close to his brother to comfort him somehow.

 

"Alright, if we don't have anything else to say, I'll go talk to that nice red hair girl – I'm quite thirsty." Charles stands up, kissing Raven on her front before reaching for his victim. "See you tomorrow, darling."

 

The pub is not very crowded so Charles can walk easily toward the girl giggling with two friends of hers; she looks at him just fire a second, here mind thrilling.

_Oh god, he's coming right here, he's so handsome, does he really want to talking to me? It can't be! He's gorgeous!_

Charles withdraws with his telepathy, a little annoyed; at this point he's not sure he still likes her but when you're hungry a victim is like the other.

 

"Hello ladies!" he shows one of his dashing smiles and acting skills. "May I offer a drink to the most outstanding girls I've ever seen?" Charles' voice is warm and steady.

 

The redhead girl blushes, looking at him interested. "We don't even know your name" one of her friends says very not impressed by his performance.

 

 _He's just a loser_ , she's thinking, trying hard to not roll her eyes.

 

He doesn't mind her – _I could kill you in less than three seconds, stupid girl, who would be the loser then? You would drown in your own blood in a blink of an eye.._

 

The girl shivers, confused and Charles feels a twirl of victory inside himself.

 

"I'm Charles." he says, smiling toward the redhead girl; she gives him her hand and he kisses it just like he used to do in his century.

 

She's very pleased by his gesture – _he's a real gentleman._

 

"I'm Stacey."

 

"Pleased to meet you, Stacey. You've got a beautiful name." then he reaches for the barman. "Three sex on the beach, please." he says, winking at the her.

It's easy pretending to be interested into the things she's saying: he's read everything worthy from her mind. So, when an hour after he presses her against a wall in an empty valley, she doesn't resist him, showing her pale neck, inviting him to do whatever he pleases.

 

Charles brings one hand under her skirt – it would have been completely impossible to do this back in his time, the 18th century, with those long dresses – caressing her lightly. She moans, gripping tightly around his neck. "Oh, Charles."

 

He groans, aroused by the way her blood runs in her veins, completely unaffected by her voice or body – she means nothing to him.

 

 _Blood_ , he needs it, _blood, blood, blood_.

 

_Now._

 

While keeping her busy, he opens his mouth biting hard on her jugular, drinking from her; she tenses but she doesn't do anything – she couldn't even if she would to because now Charles' presence is persistent in her mind.

 

_Stay quiet, girl, everything will be okay._

 

He can feel her anguish and anxiety growing stronger by every second but it doesn't matter anymore.

 

He sucks the hot red liquid, it's driving him insane, he wants more, more and more...

 

Just when she's about to pass out, he stops drinking, letting her fall down.

 

_You're going to wake up and when tomorrow they will ask you about me you will say that I brought you home. Nothing less, nothing more._

He wipes the bit from her blood, sucking his fingers clean and watching the limp figure of Stacey collapsed on the dirty alley floor.

 

Even this time he didn't make a mess.

 

Raven will be happy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Do you know it? I based Seth on Richard Armitage as John Thornton _(North And South)_


End file.
